Colorblind
by Bonejangles
Summary: It was all Wolfram's fault. If he just wasn't so... so... If he could just, please, get out of Yuuri's head and pathetic used-palette-metaphors, everything would've been just fine thank you. But alas, fate doesn't seem to agree with Yuuri on this one. R


Feelin' blue, while I'm trying to

"Colorblind"

Written by: Bonejangles

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, they belong to Tomo Takabayashi. I don't own the song, it belongs to Darius Danesh. ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

_**Feelin' blue, while I'm trying to**_  
_**forget the feeling that I miss you**__**  
**_

Shibuya Yuuri, was a lot of things—the revered Maou-Heika of Shin Makoku, the luckiest spaz in all of Japan and a wimp, among other things. How ever Yuuri was not, and would never be a soppy romantic. Because, Shinou forbid it, it would affect how he was manly and liked, preferred specifically, women.

Supposedly, right? Women, with the boobs and the long hair?

But, for the life of him he could not understand why, of all the bloody and bizarre things to miss of the vast corners of his kingdom, it was that obnoxious, stubborn blonde. All the while he'd been back on earth (a couple of days for his exams) his thoughts were constantly haunted by thoughts of his accidental Fiancé, Wolfram.

He wasn't supposed to be romanticizing that big-headed, absurd, completely bratty, snotty, controlling, antagonizing, self-righteous thought-invader, he insisted in his head.

And he had run out of insults.

He wanted to tell the whole world that he was not, positively not, missing Wolfram von Bielenfeld. He wanted to shout it out, tell his class mates, tell Murata, tell his brother, mom and dad, the hobo by the train station, anyone would've done… But he was scared that he might've been construed as bat-shit crazy, so he kept it to himself.

And he really wasn't denying it. He didn't miss Wolfram. He didn't.

How could he miss the constant insulting and belittling? He got enough of that in Japan. How could he miss the way the pervert would creep into his bed at night? And insist that they were betrothed, and constantly accuse him of cheating? And how could he miss that infuriating smirk? And that tender, secret smile he bestowed only to Greta? Or that rosy flush that crept across his cheeks when he got worked up? Or the way his butter yellow curls would bounce in indignation when he would stomp off…

Yuuri caught himself there, afraid that if he went on, he really would go bat-shit crazy. Ignoring the unfamiliar butter-flies-in-his-gut feeling, he hastily stuffed his clothes in a duffel bag and got ready to leave for Shin Makoku.

He didn't miss Wolfram. He just couldn't. It wasn't denial, when there was nothing to deny.

_  
__**Feeling' green, when the jealousy swells **__**  
**__**and it won't go away in dreams**_

A couple of days on earth had meant nearly an entire year on Shin Makoku. And when Yuuri landed right into the fountain of the courtyard, everyone had been duly assembled before his regally, sopping wet form, crying thanksgiving and praise for having their king back—Although, no one cried harder the Gunter von Christ who leaked both tears from his eyes and blood from his nose.

In between the happy merry-making, frenzied cheering, and excited buzz of the multitude in general, no one noticed the lanky brunette crawl out of the fountain and into the castle.

The first thing he noticed, to his ultimate chagrin, was that his constant bedfellow (in that world at least) was missing. Wolfram wasn't assembled in the courtyard like every one was. And in the long stretch of ground and crowd, he could spot neither hide nor blonde hair, of the hot headed brat. No flash of that flaxen hair, or of verdant green eyes that usually bore into his own.

Yuuri had to grudgingly admit that it was pretty disconcerting, as he would never admit to feeling upset when Wolfram was not there.

The first thing he asked Gwendal, when he slunk into the older fellow's office, was where Wolfram was.

And he promptly demanded to know why he wasn't there when Yuuri had arrived.

Apparently Wolfram had been summoned back to the von Bielenfeld territory, and would be back by tomorrow in the least. Yuuri nodded slowly taking in all of Gwendal's explanation. He also noted how his brow furrowed deeper together, and that Gwendal had gotten more wrinkles. But Yuuri decided against pointing that out as it would have been downright rude.

That night after an uneventful dinner and tucking Greta in, Yuuri retired to his room, feeling a bit more alone than usual. And when he threw the covers over himself, he swore it felt colder.

But he wasn't ready to admit that it was because of the absence of Wolfram.

Or that he was jealous that Wolfram had gone and left him for another matter.

Even if he was to be back by tomorrow.

…Damn, his bed felt cold.

_**Feelin' yellow, I'm confused inside  
A little hazy but mellow when I feel your eyes on me**_

When Yuuri woke up that morning, he expected to turn and see Wolfram snoring gently next to him. It felt even stranger to wake up to an empty space (and on it, unharmed), where there was usually a violent blonde entity occupying it.

Re-orienting himself, he got ready to have a jog with his Godfather/psycho-analyst/agony aunt-and everything-in-between.

He slipped out of his royal bedchambers, and beckoned for Conrad, who was waiting patiently outside the room. Together, they proceeded to the courtyard to do Yuuri's morning run.

Jogging along side Conrad and an entire battalion of royal guards behind him, Yuuri thought the whole spectacle looked dead absurd. How ever for formality and his safety's sake (and Gwendal's too, so he wouldn't worry so much and turn into one gigantic wrinkle), the entourage had stuck. And as he rounded the corner, Conrad next to him talking of the latest on goings of Shin Makoku Yuuri, his mind began to wander.

About Greta, she was growing pretty fast now, and it worried him.

About the documents he had to go over with Gwendal later.

About Wolfram and that he **should** be back by today.

About how much he missed Wolfram the past few days he was gone—No.

He wasn't obsessing about that, He nearly drove himself mad back on earth by doing that. Yuuri then solemnly concluded that he was just worried about his good friend. Worried. Right.

He took a deep breath, grinned at Conrad, then asked about Yozak. He was going to take his mind of his bizarre thoughts on a certain blonde, whether or not it was going to expend all his will power doing so. He was, and he would. That would show that girly, insulting jerk of a thought-invader.

The very moment after he had come up with this resolution, his darned traitorous eyes caught a very familiar emerald pair. The very pair that belonged to the person he swore not to think about so much anymore. Yuuri might have yelled high treason at his own eyes, but he would have looked more insane than he already did.

And, as if the rest of his body decided to join the rebellion his eyes had instigated, his legs suddenly went wobbly and decided to criss-cross themselves over each other. This of course resulted in Yuuri falling, literally, head over heels and vice versa to the ground.

It was also very expected that the hapless soldier running behind Yuuri to trip over his king, and the other hapless soldier behind the hapless soldier who tripped the king to trip over the soldier who tripped over the king… and so on, until there was a human pile-up bigger than any accident the interstates of America had ever seen.

It was like fate was contriving against him too.

Conrad was luckily, smart and agile enough to side step the whole of the pandemonium (but not lucky enough to pull his liege away).

However, Yuuri obviously was not, being the whole cause of it. And all the while that painfully humiliating uproar had ensued, he felt that piercing familiar (and very much missed, though he'd never willingly admit it) stare follow him all the way down to beneath the mess of soldiers, arms and legs.

He tentatively poked his head out from under a torso, and met Wolfram's shocked and partly bemused gaze. Wolfram then cocked his head lightly to the side, and shook it gently, muttering "clumsy wimp," under his breath, but offering his hand any way.

Later, when Yuuri had been safely extricated from the dog-pile, he would vehemently deny (in his head of course) that catching Wolfram's look did not give him the jelly legs, or did not ignite that warm, fuzzy butterfly feeling in his gut. It was out of surprise he tripped. Of course, surprise.

_**Feelin' fine, sublime  
when that smile of yours creeps into my mind**_

When Yuuri had gotten changed and sat down to work, he promised himself to focus more on working, and to sign, read, and pass as many documents as he could that day. But roughly about four hours and a severe butt-cramp later, his resolve was breaking. Yuuri propped himself up on one elbow, and hid his face behind his hand.

He was beginning to nod off… and daydream… about that horrific morning. He thought about how embarrassing it was, having tripped over himself. He thought about the pain that he felt when an elbow accidentally jabbed at his kidneys. He thought about the alarmed Conrad, calling for him from out of the mess.

But most of all he thought of how Wolfram smiled when he reached out and accepted the offered hand.

It wasn't smug, surprisingly, but was rather gentle. The morning sunlight had filtered through Wolfram's hair, highlighting the flush on his cheeks, and making him seem like he glowed. His pink lips tenderly quirked up and those bright green eyes softened…

In the flurry Yuuri's boredom-induced stupor, he thought Wolfram really did look like an angel then. He vaguely wondered if Wolfram would ever smile like that for him again… And his heart did a colossal pirouette in his chest.

Surprised at the sudden palpitation of his heart, Yuuri's head slid of his hand and landed with a dull and painful thud upon his desk… Which alarmed the other occupant of the room. Gwendal jerked up from the document he had been reviewing to look curiously at Yuuri, one eyebrow arched patronizingly.

When the pain had subsided enough to look up, he saw Gwendal scrutinizing him with a very pointed stare. As if wondering, that in the past few months (or days in Yuuri's case) he had been gone, he had gone insane.

Yuuri laughed, desperately trying to dispel the awkward tension. "I'm fine, Gwendal. Head slipped is all." He said.

But in the very deep recesses of his mind, he bitterly thought to himself 'you don't know the half of it.'

In which case, Yuuri was very right.

_**Feelin' red, when you spend my times  
with your friends and not me instead  
**_

By the time Gwendal had released him from paper work (conceded to his pleading) it was late in the after noon. His first notion was to hunt Wolfram down and demand a proper welcome. But decided against it, as, he concluded, it was dangerous to his mental health. Instead he opted to search for Greta, to have some quality father-daughter bonding done.

Yuuri wandered all over the castle stopping by the kitchens, his room, Greta's room, and even daring to venture a footstep into Anissina's lair. Eventually his search led him out into the gardens, where he spotted Greta sitting in the grass with the maid making flower chains.

Strangely enough, he expected Wolfram to be there.

Quelling that thought, he walked over to Greta to retrieve her from the maids and start the father-daughter time.

But alas, his latest conundrum over a certain blonde was not to leave him any time soon, for the first ting that slipped out of his mouth when he approached Greta was a, " Have you seen Wolfram anywhere? And that resulted in the maids whispering feverishly, Greta smiling in a rather smug way, and Yuuri mentally kicking himself in the head for the umpteenth time that day.

To save face, he hastily explained that their father-daughter bonding time wouldn't have been complete with out her—duh—other father.

Like hell they were buying that one.

Shaking her head at the silly antics of her daddy, Greta knowingly explained that her Poppa Wolf was training with his regiment, and cheekily added not to worry, because Wolfram loved them first and foremost.

Yuuri felt like an idiot. A jealous idiot. Because not only did he look stupid in front of the whole castle and his daughter and the maids, he was also vaguely beginning to wonder if he meant anything to Wolfram.

How could that brat pick training his troops over welcoming him back?!

And for the love of all that was sacred, why did he care so much?!

_**Feelin' black, when I think about  
all the things that I feel I lack**_

It was evening when Yuuri had finally caught Wolfram, already changed and ready to get under the covers. He threw open the doors, marched to the foot of the bed, pointed rather accusingly at Wolfram and demanded why he was torturing him this way.

Wolfram who had expected absolutely none of this, jumped a good two feet in the air when Yuuri had banged the doors open and promptly toppled off the bed.

When he was finally over the initial shock and was sure that his heart wasn't about to bust an artery, he cried out angrily at Yuuri, calling him several rude, un-kingly things and lobbing a pillow at his head.

"What in the hell, you wimp?!" Honestly, Wolfram feared for his fiancé's sanity. Having heard of the events that day, he was beginning to doubt that Yuuri was at all mentally stable.

"Don't play coy and innocent with me you—you mind rapist!" Yuuri cried and with one dramatic pivot charged to the adjoined bathroom.

A thick heady silence then settled in the room, creeping out the bewildered blonde. He vaguely wondered if Greta minded sharing her room.

_**Feelin' jaded, when it's not gone right  
All the colours have faded, then I feel your eyes on me**_

By the time Yuuri was out of the bathroom, changed and more importantly calmed, Wolfram had already settled in the far edge of the bed. Settled in, but very awake.

Yuuri was sure he was conscious, because he couldn't hear any snoring.

He carefully sidled up to the unoccupied end and as quietly as possible shimmied under the covers. But as soon as he laid his head on the pillow, he felt that familiar verdant gaze that had unknowingly caused the commotion this morning. Yuuri was starting to wonder if this fixation was healthy, or even normal—He was developing Wolfram-stare-senses.

The blonde was the first to speak, soft, gentle, and desperately trying to be understanding.

"Is there anything you want to talk about, Yuuri?" Coaxing, and tactfully avoiding the 'wimp' bit.

Yuuri considered not replying. He was screwed. If he spoke, he'd lose. If he didn't, he'd go insane. There was just no winning… Like being at the bottom of the ninth, and no sign of scoring.

He opened his mouth, his brain trying to throw together words that would sound rational and sane enough as to not frighten away the object of his obsession.

But alas, as he was the luckiest spaz in the world, he was still a spastically awkward dork with an unhealthy fascination for a possessive, violent, beautiful, blonde mazoku, so his mouth shot off the first non-gibberish that his brain had come up with.

"It's like being in a dirty palette when I'm around you."

Wolfram sputtered indignantly.

WHAT?! Did he reek of Bearbee poo or something?! The Nerve of that wimp! He bathed regularly and used that stupid strawberry shampoo that the idiot liked so much!

All patience for the double black evaporated, and irritation took full rein. "Well, if that's how you feel then," he began acerbic and sharp and ready to turn over to ignore the tactless wimp.

_**Nobody told me you'd feel so good  
Nobody said you'd be so beautiful**_**  
**_**Nobody warned me about your smile  
You're the light, you're the light  
When I close my eyes  
I'm color blind**_

"No! Wait! Wolf, lemme explain how I mean it first…" Was there no end to his being such a dork? The double black reached out to pull Wolfram back. He held his upper arm in a firm grip, as their eyes locked.

Wolfram's lips tightened and his eyes flashed. If the wimp was going to insult him one more time, he was going to smack Yuuri. Very, very hard.

"What I'm trying to say is… Y'know when colors mix and it gets very hard to tell one from the other? Like that. When I'm around you, I feel just like that. The first thing would be confusion… but the rest… it's too difficult to pick apart now…" He let his voice trail off, but never once did he let his eyes leave the blonde's.

The warmth of his hand seeped through the downy material of Wolfram's night gown, and his heart began to pound.

"I… I'm sorry." It was deep, and made Wolfram shudder.

"What for, Yuuri?" His voice was barely above whisper now. Wolfram's head was still spinning from the strange confession.

"For calling you a mind-rapist, and acting weird… How I feel… It's just really difficult to explain… I… "

Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut, because he feared that Wolfram might leap of the bad and call him crazy, or worse, start laughing—This wasn't a joke. He took a deep breath, and let go. His eyes fluttered open in time with his breath.

_**Blinded by the light you shine, the colors fade completely  
Blinded by you every time, I feel your smile defeat me**____**I'm color blind  
I just can't deny this feeling You make me color blind**_

There was a long pause, before Wolfram could talk properly again.

But, he smiled. That tender smile…

It made Yuuri's head spin, despite it being cradled by a pillow. It made his heart do that colossal-pirouette thing again. It made butterflies race at a nauseating rate in his stomach. It made him feel… he wasn't sure what it made him feel. But, damn, he liked it for sure.

"… Yuuri, I know, I understand … Now please, for the love of Shinou… Let go of my arm and get some sleep."

Yuuri smiled and finally shut his eyes to sleep, but held on still.

……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

A/N: HOLY CRACK, I am fracking retarded. I cut the song short, as the whole thing was getting too long to be normal for a one shot. But it killed me to do it… Sooo… Uh… Run-on sentences, bad grammar, typos, Oh my! Reviews are very much appreciated. Flames, and constructive criticism too, I guess. But they're less appreciated than a good ol' review.


End file.
